Searing Limits
by ScabiorSnatcher69
Summary: Hermione's father has passed and left her money in order to buy a home in the wizarding world. Now she is able to pass between worlds without having to worry about a place to stay. However, with her muggle-born status, Hermione is in danger.


She thought the very devil was standing in her doorway. Despite ghost stories that had always portrayed the devil as a bestial creature - horned and inhuman, something to be mocked but not feared - deep down Hermione had always known that the devil would look like a man, this man, danger incarnate. And now here he was standing in her doorway…

From where she stood on the stairwell, she could not tell if his eyes were ice-water blue or pale green. The color that most arrested her, stopping her in midstep was the red bandana of his tattered jacket. And in the crook of his arm, he held tightly a small, leather-bound journal. She needed no further evidence. The Snatchers had come.

After allowing herself one deep, calming breath, Hermione continued down the stairs to her fate waiting below.

_You're a lady_, Hermione, she firmly reminded herself. _And he's just a man. Act like it._

"Sir?" she said as she descended the stairs with as much dignity as she could muster. "If you've come to burn the house down I suggest you lay torch to the inside first. The brick exterior is mostly fireproof."

She was gratified to see a small flash of astonishment in the eyes of the Snatcher as he heard her first fearless words.

"Have no fear. We've become experts at burning. When the time comes your home will burn just as easily as the rest of your town," the leader replied, his voice oozing arrogance. She thought she might have heard a hint of amusement even. But surely such a man was devoid of humor.

"So you do intend to burn us then? Just curious really," she said with a bravado she did not feel as she came to the bottom of the stairs. Realizing quickly how tall he was, she stayed on the bottom step so she could meet him eye to eye. She would not allow this man to intimidate her even though he held her life in his hands.

"Well, if you insist, we'll be happy to oblige. But actually I was merely inspecting this home as possible quarters for my men this week."

She saw a tight smile appear on his lips as a wave of unmasked relief crossed her face. She had let her guard down but she was too relieved to care. She and her servants would be safe a few more days.

"Tell me," the Snatcher continued, "is this your property alone? Or do you have a father or husband that I should be addressing?"

"You may address me, Sir. I am Miss Hermione Granger. I alone have owned this home."

Unexpectedly, he stepped closer to her and took her hand in his placing a quick kiss upon it. More out of surprise than disgust, she snatched her hand away from him as if she had been burned. She watched as a wicked grin spread across his face, a face that she could only grudgingly admit to herself was the most striking she had ever seen.

"Miss Granger, a pleasure," he said with thinly veiled menace. Clearly, her terrified reaction pleased him in some perverse way. "Scabior… Snatcher."

Hermione felt her stomach fall as heard him say his name. His brutal exploits were legendary in any town that harboured muggle-borns. Some spoke of him as if he was not even human. Looking at him now, totally fearless, smoldering with ruthless ambition and graced with unnatural eyes that belonged to an angel rather than a demon, she could believe them. And this man was planning to live in her home. This was terror. But it was something else too. Something she could not yet name. Something she did not want to.

For a moment she allowed herself to remember the words her father had spoken to her many times. Kind and utterly devout, he had reminded her on countless occasions to love her enemies and accept whatever evil came upon her. Again and again he had told her, "Whatever you give them is one less thing they can take from you. . ." She never truly understood those enigmatic words until now.

Wanting to honor her late father, she had no choice but to say to Scabior, "You and your men are welcome in my home, of course. Shall I offer you a tour of the property?"

He smirked at her easy assent. Surely he interpreted her lack of resistance to cowardice. There was no help for that. But as she began to lead him through her immense and much beloved home, she could only wonder at what else she would end up giving this man before he could take it.


End file.
